Susan's Dreams
by Canbya
Summary: Dreams are the reality that we cannot face in the waking world. Locked away, the Gentle Queen, has forgotten how to live. Yet through the dreams of a life once lived, Susan Pevensie learns to truly wake.
1. Dreaming

**Susan's Dreams **  
Part 1: Dreaming

_Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, as such I write this for the pure purpose of my enjoyment and hopeful the enjoyment of any readers._

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Low, bulky clouds hang in the horizon. Torrential rain falls. The heavens weep. The sun shields itself against the horrifying sight. Through the sheets of falling rain Susan can make out the dim shapes of the approaching army. An army filled with brutes, the most vile of creatures, lead by the fierce giants of the north. Fear fills her. She clutches the bow in her hand tighter. Glancing down, Susan can see her own army. She can barely make out Peter and Edmund in the front. She is only able to distinguish them by the way that they carry themselves. Taking deep breathes, seeing the moisture condense, she mutters a prayer to the Lion. '_You are good. You are great. Please let us come out of this alive. Please grant us victory. Please…_' Turning around, she accesses the troupe of archers that she, herself is to lead. Looking at their older, more experienced faces, Susan is reminded that she is only sixteen. Four years ago, she had never shot an arrow, and yet here she is, a leader – a Queen.

A low horn is blown. The archers raise their bows, poised for action, ready for the first assault. Susan continues to squint into the distance, trying to make out their numbers. Suddenly there is a break in the clouds and a single ray of light penetrates. Horrified, she wishes that her vision would be obscured once more. There are so many more of them. They are hopelessly outnumbered. Dread fills her. Quickly without thought, she raises her own small horn. The horn, given to her by Father Christmas, foretold to bring help. Susan blows into it. Its soft, yet clear note is heard throughout all the ranks. A last desperate prayer to the Lion. Susan runs out of breath, and the note dies. The sun bursts forth in all its glory. The Lion's roar is heard. The Narnians cheer. There is no fear. Not anymore. How can they lose when Aslan, creator of the world supports, them? Confidently, Susan raises her bow. Her enchanted quiver, which is never depleted, is slung confidently on her back. With a well practiced cry, Susan calls for the first arrows, her own included, to fly over the Narnians, giving them cover as they engage with the enemy. As the battle quickens, Susan loses track of her brothers. But she has no time to search them out in the ensuing chaos, as she launches arrow after arrow – each own meeting an enemy, bringing them one step closer to victory. One step closer to a safer paradise.

As Susan relentlessly leads the attack from above a small petite figure catches her eye. A small petite figure she recognizes – Lucy. Her sister is engaged in battle with a minotaur, and she is losing. There is no time to think, Susan swiftly fires three arrows. Each with deadly accuracy. The minotaur falls, and Lucy is spared. '_Thank you, Aslan_,' Susan mutters. Lucy disappears into the deadly dance, but Susan knows that Lucy is the Lion's favored child. She knows that she will be alright. She has to be.

Hours pass in a blur, and though the rain has long subsided, there is mud everywhere. The enemy is defeated. Their combatants dead or surrendered. Her troupe is mostly unscathed. An injury here, or there, but they were far enough away from the blood lust to escape fatalities. The same cannot be said for so many others though. As she descends down from her high perch, Susan can already see Lucy scampering about with her Cordial, administering its saving powers to those who can still yet be saved. Susan runs to greet her brothers, to assure herself that they have survived the battle if nothing else. But as she runs she finds she can never get any closer. The faster she runs, the further everything drifts away. Until she is somewhere completely different.

The muddy battle field is replaced with an English schoolroom. The school dance is approaching. All the other girls whisper and gossip. Who's wearing what; who's going out with who. Susan stands apart from the huddle. Though she has a beauty that surpasses all, she still finds herself on the fringes of society. But she is not unhappy. Her younger sister, Lucy is there standing next to her; bubbling with unsurpassable joys. It has been several months since they were in Narnia. A world made of colors brighter than anything of this world. The bitter anguish in her core, is kept at bay only by the bright torch of Lucy's unwavering faith. Someday they will return. Lucy keeps her strong. As long as Lucy is there, she is strong enough to carry on.

The scene shifts. Susan is standing in the courtyard of a fine finishing school for young ladies. For the first time in her life, counting all her years, she is without her family. Lucy has a scholarship to another school renowned for the education it provides to young ladies. Lucy has aspirations to be a doctor, to offer the healing she was able to give with her Cordial. Lucy sends letters, as to Peter and Edmund, but without them by her side the torment she has avoided thus far begins to take root. The other girls laugh when she tries to explain what is honorable, what is acceptable of a young lady being courted. They call her old-fashioned. Susan cannot fit in so long as she lives as a Queen. And the pain of separation is so great that she pretends that Narnia does not exist. But the lie is repeated so many times, that soon she finds that she is starting to believe that nothing as perfect as Narnia could exist. For what is not real cannot hurt.

Susan stands in a field, that she does not recognize yet feels utterly familiar. Tall grass, and wild flowers stretch in all directions. A brilliant blue sky arcs overheard, marked by a few stunning white clouds. The sun shines radiantly, causing Susan to feel almost as if she is glowing. A voice calls out. Susan turns around. Now she is standing in an emerald forest. Looking up she sees the source of the voice. High in a tree, sitting comfortably next to a dryad is her younger sister. She wears a silver crown upon her braided hair, and a rust colored dress. Susan feels woefully inadequate, as she realizes she is standing in her English nightwear.

"Susan?" asks Lucy surprised. She nimbly comes down for her high perch, laughing joyfully. Within moments her younger sister is standing in front of her. Before Susan can truly understand what is happening, her sister embraces her. Arms wrap around her, lovingly protecting her. Susan hugs her sister back, gripper her tighter, afraid to let her go.

"Don't leave me," begs Susan. "Please don't leave me."

Suddenly, Susan is standing in a crowd in a filled but not overcrowded ballroom. It is finer than anything she has seen in England in the post-war years, but it only echoes the grandeur and splendor of the castle that was once hers. She looks for strength from her sister, but Lucy has disappeared, and is no where to be seen. A dull heartthrob fills her, as she remembers the Accident. She is questioning why she allowed Mrs. Wheeler from work to convince her to partake in such gaiety. The dress she is wearing, despite being the height of fashion, is tight and ill fitting. The cut does not flatter her – not like the gowns she once wore. Though the war as long passed, the hardships have not.

She feels all alone standing there. Her acquaintance has disappeared and she recognizes none of the faces. In her confusion the faces blur together, until she cannot tell one man from another. Nor one happy girl from a mellow woman. Then her gaze focuses upon a face. A face of a boy turned man who she knew once many years ago. When she was fourteen the second time. With forgotten grace, she moves to the centre of the ballroom. The other guests fall apart, and a hush descends upon the room. All pause to watch the unfolding scene.

"Caspian?" asks Susan breathlessly, taking the hands the prince she remembers from her second childhood. The boy turned man who helped to liberate her country – her Narnia. "Is it you really you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Tis I, my Gentle Queen," the King bowed deeply to the Lost Queen. Though his words were soft, intended only for Susan, they carried throughout the whole room. But no one, save the couple could comprehend their meaning.

Music strikes up. It is not the scratchy music of an old vinyl that they have had to make do with in recent years. It is not a tune belonging to Earth. The hired band in the corner is still. It is a song that Susan remembers from the Golden Age; written by the dryads and fauns to celebrate the end of winter. The wistful tune twists together inseparable longing, hope, and unending joy. Weaving melodies and harmonies intermediately. It was similar to a well-loved church hymn, and yet so much more. As Susan moves through the steps she helped to create, with Caspian as her talented partner, she is astounds to realize that her cheap dress has been replaced by a heavy, exquisite gown. The gown she wore to celebrate the fifteenth anniversary of their golden reign in Narnia. A gown she wore when princes and kings competed for her attention.

But as with all good things in this world, the song comes to end. Softly it fades to the background. Claps explode from all around. Caspian smiles at her. His hand gently slips from hers. Quietly he leans forward. In her ear, he whispers. All fades to black, though Susan desperately tries to run after her prince. Not a prince anymore, she reminds herself. Did not Lucy, Edmund, and even Eustace tell her of how he was now a king of his own right? King Caspian X, the Seafarer. But of course she cannot follow him to where he is now. For did not Jill tell her that Caspian had died an old man? And however much it pains her, she is still alive.

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**Author Notes**:

This was originally meant to be much longer, and I had written over 10,000 words. Originally I planned on having several separate dreams, interluded with reality. However the more I wrote, the more forced it felt. So after ten months of struggling with this story, I decided to cut it back to the basics. Therefore I have actually woven several dream sequences together. It is up to the reader, whether or not all these dreams took place over several months/years or all in one night. I sincerely hope, that it does not read too choppy..

There is a second part that I have completed and will be posting soon.


	2. Awakening

**Susan's Dreams**  
Part 2: Awakening

_Disclaimer: I hold no claim to the ownership of the Chronicles of Narnia. I only borrow the characters for a brief time, for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers._

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Alone in her small flat, Susan blinked away the vestiges of sleep. The sunlight streaming in the through the window seemed pale and insignificant as she struggled to remember her dream. Through the thin walls she could hear her neighbors as they prepared for the day. Glancing at her cheap alarm clock she was surprise to find that she had only a half an hour to prepare for work. She could afford to waste no time. But the words, "_Be not afraid to live_," lingered, haunting her. The voice was not her own. It was unrecognizable and yet achingly familiar. But as with all dreams the harder she tried to remember the less she could recall. Less than a minute had passed. Like water cupped in the hands, the dream was gone.

Like always Susan left her flat promptly on time, her long black hair tied into a tight bun. In dull clothing, she slipped into the grey crowds unnoticed as she took the bus to the office where she was employed as a receptionist. Her boss had time and time again, pointed out that the Tube would be faster, but Susan refused to ride anything resembling a train – not after her entire family was stolen away from her in a cruel twist of fate.

Upon arrival in the small office Susan hung her coat on the designated hook, and placed her umbrella in the brass stand by the door. Without thought she took her custom place behind the typewriter. Absentmindedly she flicked through the sheets and sheets of paper that somehow accumulated over the weekend. Carefully she turned the handwritten scrawls into precise lettering. Efficiently she sealed envelopes and placed the mail in the outgoing basket. Later she would walk the mail to the pillar box on the corner just in time for the noon collection.

Exactly fifteen minutes after Susan had taken her seat behind the front desk, her employer, Mr. Hendrick, rang the bell as he walked into the small lobby. He tipped his hat to Susan, before hanging his own coat on the peg next to hers. His umbrella occupied the slot next to Susan's as always.

"Good morning Susan," he greeted warmly. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"It was a quiet weekend," replied Susan, not taking her eyes off the letter she was currently transcribing.

"Always a quiet weekend with you," noted Mr. Hendrick. "You should get out more."

"I get out often enough," said Susan. Then picking up a note, "You have a meeting with Miss Lovelace during lunch."

"Of course," answered Mr. Hendrick before he disappeared into his office behind the front desk and closed the door, leaving Susan alone again. Seventeen minutes later, Mrs. Wheeler burst into the office. Her blonde hair was in a frazzle, as she clutched a packet of loose papers to her chest.

"Good morning Susan," said Mrs. Wheeler, placing the papers down on Susan's desk. "Would you be a dear and type these up for me?"

"Of course," answered Susan, shuffling the papers into a semblance of order. The light drizzle had smeared the ink slightly, but they were all still legible. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"It was just brilliant. Harold and I went and saw _Elephant Walk_. It was just lovely. You must see it," said Mrs. Wheeler of the recently released film.

"I will have to consider it," said Susan demurely. Gesturing to the papers she said, "I'll have these ready for you by the end of the day."

"Brilliant," said Mrs. Wheeler before disappearing up the narrow staircase where her own office awaited her.

Susan was left alone in the small reception. The steady rhythm of her fingers interrupted only by the occasional phone call. At a quarter to noon, Susan gathered up the mail in a small straw basket that Lucy had given her when she first started working six years ago. Mr. Hendrick hurried past to go to his meeting with Miss Lovelace. Mrs. Wheeler followed soon after for her own lunch break. Flipping the small sign on the door from Open to Close, Susan turned the lock, and walked towards the pillar box.

With little warning a rather large man, in a great hurry, ran into Susan in a head on collision. Susan collapsed to the ground. She fell flat on her back, knowing not to put her hands back lest she snap her wrists. Her basket went flying through the air, the various letters all a flutter.

However Susan was no featherweight, and the man bounced backwards in a classic demonstration of Newton's third law. Standing up, he made his way towards Susan.

"I'm so sorry," he offered his hand to Susan, helping her up. "I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology," said Susan cooly, as her eyes fell on her basket. Empty of its contents it landed in a rather large puddle in the road. Her heart quenched as a car drove over it. Ruined. Gone. Unbidden tears formed in her eyes. Blinking them away, Susan bent down to collect the letters that were retrievable. The man immediately set to help her. Miraculously all the letters were recovered. Only two were water damaged. Susan slid them into her pockets. They would need to be retyped. The man helped her carry the remaining letters to the pillar box, where the mailman had arrived.

"Are you injured?" asked the man concerned noticing the wet shine in Susan's eyes.

"No," answered Susan briskly. Checking for traffic, she walked into the street and picked up her sodden basket. It was truly beyond repair – mangled just like its maker.

With her head held high, with dignity rare in the streets of London, Susan walked back to her small reception. Unlocking the door, she felt the eyes of the man follow her, but she did not turn around. Entering into the office, she dropped the basket into the waste bin. Settling into her seat she pulled out the two water damaged letters. Breaking the soggy seals, she retyped the letters, and placed them where her basket customarily sat. An hour later both Mrs. Wheeler and Mr. Hendrick returned from their lunch breaks and the day continued as normal. If either Mrs. Wheeler or Mr. Hendrick noticed Susan's eyes were red or that her nose was rather blotchy they made no mention of it.

Soon it was time for closing. First Mrs. Wheeler left, then Mr. Hendrick. Susan shuffled papers into order, ready for the morning. Then picking up her umbrella and putting on her coat, she locked the door and turned to head home.

The next day passed in a same fashion as the previous. Only this time, when Susan went to deliver the mail, she had to balance the stack of envelopes in her arm. Fortunately it was not actually raining, though a persistent mist hung in the air. After she dumped the letters through the slot, she turned around to face none other than the man from yesterday.

"Excuse me, Miss" he called to her.

"Pevensie, Susan Pevensie," supplied Susan. "And you would be?"

"Daniel Evans," he answered. "I am truly sorry about yesterday."

"I already accepted your apology. There is no need for more," said Susan.

"Yes, but I feel awful. My mum gave me quite the earful when I told her last night. And I was wondering if you had time enough for a lunch. It is the least that I owe you," said Daniel. Closing her eyes, Susan could feel his nervousness. The words '_Be not afraid to live_,' came forth unbidden. It was time to take a chance. Gathering her courage, long forgotten, she looked to Daniel with a small smile, her grey eyes bright.

"You owe me nothing," she told him as her pride demanded, but before he could reply she continued, "however, I would be honored to share a lunch with you." Hence together they walked to a nearby cafe and shared a light lunch.

Daniel asked Susan about herself and Susan told him about her job as a receptionist. After informing Daniel that she works for Mr. Hendrick's Law Office, she turned the conversation around. With the ease of a well practiced diplomat, she interrogated him. He explained his hurry. He mentioned his service during the war, before telling her about his new job at the Embassy.

All too soon the lunch hour drew to a close. Daniel escorted Susan back to her small office. They made promises to meet again. Susan slipped back into her office wearing a large smile. Daniel wove through the crowds of London grinning to himself.

"Who was that man?" asked Mrs. Wheeler, following closely behind Susan.

"Nobody," answered Susan not bothering to hide her smile.

"Didn't look like nobody to me," replied Mrs. Wheeler. "It's about time you found yourself someone, girl."

"Yes, I suppose it is," muttered Susan to herself before humming a tune that she could not name. It was a deceptively simple tune that promised joyful hopes after long winters, as familiar as Susan's own heart beat, and it felt at home in the back of her throat. And for the first time, in a long time, Susan felt ready to live again.

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Author Notes:  
And such I end this two piece observation, with a rather open beginning rather than an absolute ending. I had written this with a complete courtship between Susan and Daniel, which culminated in the birth of two daughters Petunia and Lily, spawning a rather cute crossover, but it felt rather forced. It is up to the reader to decide if Susan and Daniel carry on a courtship or merely remain friends.


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